Almost a day later, Edwin was standing atop the siege outpost’s southern berm, looking out at the field between him and the walls. A thick layer of clouds had blown in from the west, occluding the sun and coloring the world a drab grey. Edwin had never been good at predicting the weather, but even to him it felt like a storm was coming, like the sky simply hadn’t decided yet whether it wanted rain, or lightning, or both in equal measure. Edwin scanned the top of the wall from left to right for anything out of place, then sighed and rubbed his eyes. When they’d arrived at their forward position the adventurers had been perfectly alert, but six hours later their focus was slipping. With the snap of rope and the bang of wood on wood, the catapult directly behind Edwin unleashed its arm, propelling its payload of three medium-sized rocks towards Artelby. He watched them sail through the air and disappear behind the wall, then sighed again. He hated waiting.
“Don’t take it off!” Bordan’s harshly whispered words drew Edwin’s attention to his right, where the former soldier was grabbing the arm of a person wearing soldier’s armor. 9-1 was defending the outpost along with 3-1, a light infantry cohort. The woman glared back at Edwin’s friend, but took her gloved fingers off her helmet strap.
“I wasn’t going to take it off,” she said haughtily.
“Well, stop fiddling with it,” Bordan growled. “If the enemy spots your long hair, the whole operation is in danger. Just look at the guys around you and do what they do – nothing.”
The woman huffed and turned away, but Bordan didn’t push it, choosing instead to leave it be and walk off towards the other side of their formation. Edwin shared a look with his friend as he passed by, and the former soldier grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Civilians!” Edwin could almost hear him think.
The siege outpost was always buzzing with noise. Catapults creaked as they were being loaded, crews shouted commands to each other, and the chatter of the defensive troops positioned along the outside mashed together into a constant background noise. The sounds were always the same, though, so when Edwin heard a metallic screech that he hadn’t heard once in all the hours he’d been standing there, he was instantly alert. It only took him a moment to identify the direction it came from, and then another to confirm what it meant.
“Bordan!” Edwin bellowed. “Gate’s opening!”
By the time Bordan had rushed up the berm and joined the other defenders in staring at Artelby’s main gate, the portcullis had risen far enough that even those without improved vision could make out the difference.
“Sound the alarm!” Bordan shouted, “Enemy sortie! Prepare for battle!”
“I was starting to think it wasn’t happening,” Leodin mumbled, dropping the front of his crossbow onto the ground to load it with practiced movements. Horns called out toward the camp, sounding the general alarm even before the gate had fully opened. The outpost became a flurry of activity as the defenders grabbed their weapons and got into formation on the berm. Finally, the portcullis had disappeared into the gatehouse and the massive, wooden gates swung outwards, revealing a mess of steel armor and red fabric.
Despite some inconspicuous preparations, the main Harvand forces needed time to drop what they were doing, grab their gear, and begin marching to what would no doubt soon become the battlefield. Until then, the defenders of the outpost could only watch as a never-ending stream of Marradi soldiers came jogging through the gate, slowly forming a massive wedge pointing directly at the outpost. Edwin was starting to think that somebody had seriously messed up, when finally the palisade of the Harvand camp also began disgorging the first cohorts of its own, the gleaming armor of first battalion’s heavy infantry a more than welcome sight as they marched onto the field.
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“I guess it’s really happening,” Salissa said quietly, gripping her round wooden shield more tightly.
“That’s a good thing,” Edwin responded, his voice just above a whisper. “I’d rather they attack us when we’ve planned for it, than they don’t and keep us guessing.”
“They’re coming.” Leodin’s voice was tense, though his body didn’t betray his nerves. The hands holding his heavy crossbow were steady as rock, even as over a thousand Marradi soldiers began marching across the field. The distance suddenly seemed a lot shorter than it had just moments before.
“The reds will get here before our friendlies,” Bordan shouted from behind them, “but remember: We don’t need to win, just hold long enough that the main force can reach us. Don’t be stupid, cover yourselves, and no heroics! Yes, that means you too, Edwin!”
His last words sent a wave of chuckles down the line of adventurers, and Edwin huffed. Unlike most of the men and women around him, he knew the plan in its entirety.
“Marksmen, fire at will,” Bordan announced as the enemy approached. “Everyone else, shields up and prepare for arrows!”
Moments later, a cloud of black shadows lifted up from behind the Marradi shields. Edwin grunted, lifting his arm to cover his bare face. He hated this part. Shooting at people should be illegal, how was he supposed to punch whoever was doing it if they were so far away? The first volley of arrows fell around them, and he moved his hand to peek at the approaching enemy.
“Stop that!” Bordan hissed, and Edwin turned, thinking the admonishment directed at him. Instead, his friend was grabbing the shoulder of the same woman he’d spoken to earlier. “No magic!”
“You want me to get skewered?” Ferraline hissed back, dispelling the small magic shield she’d conjured in front of herself even as she glared at Bordan from under her helmet, the steel cap as ill-fitted as the rest of her borrowed armor.
“If they see you, the whole plan is ruined!” Bordan growled. “Why didn’t you bring a normal shield?”
“Why would I carry a stupid board when I can protect myself just fine?” the beautiful mage huffed, and Edwin could tell from the tightening of Bordan’s neck that his friend was running out of patience.
“Enough,” Edwin hissed, stomping over to grab the spellweaver’s arm. “Just stop talking and stay behind me.” He turned toward the next volley of arrows, standing up to his full height and shoving the lightweight mage behind his broad back. He’d expected a tirade, but as more arrows ricocheted off his armor, the mage remained quiet.
“Receive charge!” Bordan shouted, and the men and women on the berm peeked out from under their shields. Moments later, the arrows stopped falling, and with a bellowed battlecry the Marradi charged the rest of the way. Edwin would’ve been worried, if not for the fortifications he was standing on. First they reached the ditch, as the dirt for the berm had to have come from somewhere. The charge immediately faltered as the first men had to slow down to not fall on the steep edges, then several slipped and fell anyway as they encountered Master Gregory’s surprise. The magestone seemed to hold better than expected, but the soldiers’ boots had serious trouble finding purchase on the slippery material. The few who managed to climb up were immediately pushed back by spears and crossbows, often falling backwards into the men following behind. Edwin was impressed.
The attack lasted only a few minutes, and the Marradi had just begun to make headway up the berm in two places when the Harvand relief forces finally arrived. A cohort of heavy infantry each led the attacks around the sides of the outpost, and faced with a tough fortification in the front, and the potential of encirclement on the flanks, the reds began a slow and coordinated retreat back to the walls.
“We’re chasing them down, prepare to attack!” Bordan shouted, “Don’t get too excited, stay behind the first line!”
The defenders pushed makeshift wooden bridges across the ditch and streamed out, falling in behind the relief forces as they pushed the Marradi hard. To get back behind their walls, they would have to pass through the bottleneck of the gate, which would give 5th division’s forces plenty of time to punish them for their sortie. Only a fool wouldn’t take the opportunity to deal some damage, making the subsequent attacks on the fortress easier. A smattering of arrows peppered the heavy infantry as they chased the reds across the field, but the ballistae and other artillery couldn’t safely open fire while the two groups were so close.
The Marradi retreated all the way under the walls, and as the gates swung open to let them back in, Edwin almost believed that their intelligence had been incorrect, and they’d misread the situation. Maybe it was just a misguided attempt at a sortie, nothing more. Then a horn sounded from atop the wall, and another answered from the east.